This novel is something a little different for me. It is a satire set in the
UK at the present moment. There are striking parallels between these days and
the 1930s. There’s a lot of racist people around who are crawling out of the
woodwork as they have been encouraged by the implications of the Brexit vote.
“He should be taken care of and his contacts followed, and their contacts noted down for our information.”
“Goes deep, does it Tomcat?” asked Noddy.
“Looks like it,” replied Tompkins gravely, “but this could be the final chapter in our fight against the foe, at least until the next lot come along.”
“You mean, there will be others, Tomcat?”
“Invariably, just remember before the Poles came over here, there were the Indians and Bangladeshis, bringing us our national cuisine of choice in most cases, there’s always some race who wants to come here and upset things for us.”
“Right, yes, I suppose so, I see what you mean, the Jews during the Commonwealth of Olly Cromwell, the Normans, the Vikings, Norwegians, Danes, Jutes, Angles, Saxons, Romans, Celts, The Druids.”
“Right, all of them, I mean The Mongols were heading this way too, but they didn’t quite make it, did they?” Tompkins nodded his head as he spoke the words.
“No, but they were quite close, until they had to go back to elect The Great Khan, I believe.”
“The cheek! They thought our benefits were better.”
“Absolutely,” replied Noddy, “anyway, best of luck with the rest of the trip this afternoon, and I look forward to your pigeon, telling us what you need.”
“Splendid news, anyway, I should be off on me travels,” replied Tompkins. “Cheerio, everyone,” he boomed, “I’m going down to Sussex to see the defenders of our faith down there, so it was lovely to talk with you all and I look forward to seeing you at The Savoy Grill or The Glitz Bar one evening.”
“Cheerio, Tomcat,” chorused the assembled throng.
Tompkins left the room and hurled himself down the garden path before jumping over the gate and landing next to his motor.